« Spanking Stories

Diane stood alone in the hangar office they'd converted to crew quarters with two worn couches, a small fridge, permanent chargers for their sat-phones, and a tiny adjacent bathroom. Rubbing her unblemished bottom through her thin black cotton uniform pants, her instinctive gesture reflected her thoughts. She'd sent Tamsin home in their air-conditioned, chunky ute to collect their canes.

In one month, their flight routine had reached full throttle. Jake responded to Ruby Downs' cargo priorities. She and Tamsin flew three round-trips except on Sundays.

Jake often collected fresh edible supplies from Mrs. Fraser. Unloaded first, this lifestyle improvement on Ruby Downs made their regular flight arrivals popular. She or Tamsin supervised unloading as the construction crew hefted timbers and heavy sacks of cement mix, emptying their aircraft.

She soothed her palms over her smooth, pain-free bottom. Conscious of her gesture, shame tugged at her brain. Routine had created a casual cockpit. Below ten thousand feet, standard operating procedures demanded a sterile cockpit with conversation confined to the flight itself. They never flew above ten thousand feet. Allowing gentle chats, they'd relaxed too far.

Neither of them could permit their conscience to forgive today's grievous mistake. Consumed by their conversation, she'd forgotten their navigation, used to flying towards Ruby Downs.

A trailing dust plume on their horizon had disturbed their usual irrational pattern of sparse low trees. Recognizing a thundering road train hauling ass, its fifty meter three-trailer unit had jolted their pleasurable conversation. Road trains traveled dusty dirt highways, the nearest far beyond their usual horizon.

Blown south by stronger winds, she'd guided Tamsin to their correct course, their lazy mistake burning thirty minutes of extra fuel. Fuel was their lifeline. Despite availability at Ruby Downs covering emergencies, they didn't take risks.

On their return flight, she'd raised their serious mistake. Their flight reports would reflect their errors. Traveling up their chain of command through the Australian Air Operator covering their legality, onward to Diamond Cross Air Headquarters, their reports wouldn't result in punishment. Nobody would issue extra training or a firm reprimand.

Asking how many paddle swats she'd have earned from Neil for their careless mistake, Tamsin's direct challenge had defined their conversation. Following her friend's scandalous misconduct, their tight friendship had thrived. Discussing discipline wasn't unusual between them. She'd revealed a confession to Neil would have earned her ten tough swats from their bamboo paddle, causing them to compare it to ten cane strokes.

She'd told Tamsin she felt wrong punishing her given their equal culpability. Voicing their unspoken thought, Tamsin had suggested Jake should deliver their painful humiliation. Mrs. Fraser had implied canes were commonplace in Limit Creek. Perhaps he'd understand.

During their flight, she'd pondered putting Jake in charge, imagining the stark reversal of roles. He'd proved responsible with their cargo. Working alongside two women, his mature behavior had proved his respect. Before landing, she'd warned Tamsin she'd decided. Keeping her co-pilot on tenterhooks, they'd stored their plane inside the hangar before she'd announced they must both face Jake, accepting immeasurable embarrassment.

Tamsin returned, carrying their two rattan canes. She set them on the waist-high fridge, their significant presence unsettling them both.

"Will you ask him?" Tamsin asked.

"Ask him what?" Jake said, entering, his gray cargo shorts smudged with grease.

Bending down, Diane grabbed his black steel refillable water flask from their fridge. Handing it over, she wondered where to begin.

Spying their twin canes, he grimaced. "That thick one hurts."

"That is their purpose," Diane replied. Given his obvious appreciation of painful punishment, she described their dangerous flying mistake. "Escaping a severe sanction will reward careless flying. We hoped you might deliver our discipline with maturity, without it altering our professional relationship. We both deserve a hard caning."

Jake's heart thundered. Loading their plane last week, Diane had accepted a call. Commenting it was Neil, her co-pilot's boyfriend, Tamsin, had unleashed his constrained question. Delivering a flawless segue, he'd asked if she had anyone special. Her radiant smile showed she was glad he'd asked. Her two delighted words had circled his mind since. 'I'm single.'

Tamsin's gentle deference towards Diane had captivated his private thoughts, her bare legs in tiny cut-offs a prominent feature, her smart uniform close behind. In his experience, females were manipulative creatures. He'd never met a humble girl. Here his female bosses stood requesting severe punishment for their serious error. He glanced at Tamsin. The dark haired beauty shifted her subtle respect onto him, lowering her gaze. Her intense humility exploded his long-sealed heart.

"I love working for you two. I adore my autonomy. Your request is unexpected, but I'll discipline you if you can promise me, you'll resume your responsibilities with your usual confidence afterwards."

Wound tight as a spring, Diane relaxed. "Thanks," she gasped.

He watched calm descend over both girls. Getting caned hurt like hell. Requesting it was stunning maturity. He'd struggled over his desire for Tamsin. A single date could disrupt their pleasant working relationship. Conquering his concerns, he'd arrived in their crew room intending to ask her out tonight.

"Okay," Diane said. "Until you release us. Tolerate nothing. Be strict." She watched him refill his water bottle in the adjacent bathroom, his calm actions raising her tension. Returning it to their fridge, he flexed the thin, pliable cane. Her sex clenched. Replacing the thin cane, he selected the dark, dense one.

Tamsin's sex lurched. That rattan stick had inflicted severe punishment on her disgraceful backside. Her bottom twitched. She'd noticed his frequent scrutiny. Sweet on her, he might cane her less hard.

Carrying their instruments of official correction to the couch, he said, "Diane, I can't understand your mistake, but I recognize its gravity. Getting lost in the bush deteriorates fast. You handled navigation, correct?"

His commanding authority snapped formal respect from her soul. "Yes, sir," she replied.

"Tamsin, your avionics must have revealed your course deviation."

Following Diane's lead, her words tasted marvelous. "Yes, sir, they did."

He decided their unconditional surrender was already a considerable punishment. Their respectful responses showed they were serious. "Six strokes each," he said, selecting the slender cane. "Plus one extra stroke from that cane." He pointed to the dark, menacing rattan. "Your thick welt will punish you all week."

Diane said, "Thank you, sir."

Raising her gaze, Tamsin met his. "Thank you, sir."

"I'll cane you first, Diane."

Pleasant shivers fled her spine, spreading through her tingling body. She needed to bend.

"Face the window, drop your pants, bend over the fridge." Growing up, his home rules had allowed only one layer of clothing for a caning. Increasing pain, it added healthy embarrassment.

Stilled by his unexpected order, Diane moved to obey. She hadn't considered undressing. Facing their fridge, she undid her sleek black leather belt, loosened her tight, tailored pants and sank them to her knees. He was in command. Strict obedience was her absolute obligation. Her white cotton bikini panties exposed, she bent over, planting her forearms on the low fridge top.

Tamsin watched in horror. She'd dreamed of a sexy unveiling of sensual lace. His ruthless order would expose her black cotton lace nestling under her tight uniform pants.

Diane winced as the rattan rod sliced hard into her cotton underwear. Pain soaring in her welted backside, she bore him no ill will. His powerful strokes should hurt her. Grunting as he laid on her pain, she recalled her cockpit chat with Tamsin. The cane cut into her concentration, demanding her instant attention. Hissing through his agonizing strokes, she took her full six with stoic dignity.

"Stand over there," Jake ordered.

Retreating towards the corner he'd suggested, her white uniform shirt mingled with her visible white bikini panties, embarrassing her while her fresh welts stung deserved punishment into her cotton-clad behind.

"Tamsin," he called.

Obedient by nature, she stood, faced their fridge, dropped her smart uniform pants and accepted her embarrassing exposure. She urged her arms onto the fridge, anticipating her coming pain, her black cotton lace skimpy on her almost bare cheeks. Her poor cockpit performance deserved this humiliation. Forced to present her panties for his cane, her already deep obedience blossomed under his strict authority.

"Stay still," he warned.

Humbled, she appreciated Diane's wisdom in demanding they both bend. Whistling into her panties, the cane's hard landing hurt. She panted as his single stroke overwhelmed her. Soft on her, he could have moderated his strokes. The cane whipped into her stinging cheeks, layering rising pain into a roaring crescendo of bitter agony. A brief cry accompanied each severe stroke. Imagining the straight flight line across her avionics screen, she welcomed the straight lines imprinted on her chatty cheeks.

"Your turn again, Diane," he called, his consistent tone expecting ready obedience.

Diane respected his handling of them. Their punishment declared, he'd thrashed them. She watched Tamsin standing across the crew room. Her honest co-pilot wasn't caressing her burning bottom, but letting sincere suffering wash away her guilt. She shot a swift smile at her friend as she shuffled forward to the fridge.

Bent over, her burning bottom presented for a severe stroke, she felt decent. Tamsin had told her the dense cane hurt deeper. It was her time to suffer its punitive power. Confirming her knowledge, the heavy rattan blazed below her thin white panties, scorching a band of wide agony where she'd sit. Impacting all bare skin, the sizzling stripe's sensational pain soared as she clenched her teeth, driving its dreadful message into her soul.

"Your turn, Tamsin," Jake said. "Bend over."

Without fuss, Tamsin returned to her embarrassing position to take her brutal stroke. She needed it. Guilt flew through her core. With her fingers on their flight controls, she had no excuse. Lowering herself, she gripped the fridge, her flaming bottom raised to receive maximum pain.

Jake marveled at the girl he wished to date. Already in agony, she'd bent with grace, her caned backside angled upward where his severe sanction would cause her the worst hurt.

Fire flashed across her bare skin below her skimpy black lace. She gripped the sides of the fridge as heat stormed her sensitive crease, shooting down her legs and into her bottom, determined to disperse its phenomenal heat. Riding her pain wave, she flew with her agony towards bearable conditions, accepting its right to hurt her.

Coping, Tamsin stood. She flashed Diane a slight smile. Pulling up their uniform pants in unison, they both eased them over their swollen bottoms, proof their canings had done their job. Tightening their belts, they turned to Jake. Tamsin let her captain lead.

"Jake," Diane said, "Thank you for caning me. I deserved it. It was a fair punishment. I apologize for my careless attitude."

He swapped his gaze to Tamsin.

She said, "Jake, thank you for thrashing me. I deserved it. I'm ashamed of my casual attitude, but feel better already."

Catching them under his compelling gaze, he said, "You both displayed an exemplary attitude. I hope your punishment hurts." Nodding at Diane, he said, "You're both released, boss."

"Thank you, Jake," Diane said.

The intense atmosphere dropped into calm reflection. Tamsin smiled at Jake, her full beam confirming she held no resentment. "I bet you didn't expect that."

Retrieving his water bottle, he said, "I was coming to ask you for a drink tonight. On reflection, my timing feels inappropriate."

She shot him an unmistakable challenge. "You haven't asked me."

He grinned. "I love your company. Would you join me for a drink tonight?"

"I'd love to," she grinned, letting him straight off her feeble hook, his polite request filling her mind. "I've just had my bottom caned. Will you date a twenty-three-year-old girl who needed caning today?"

"I'd love to," he replied, thrilled she'd confirmed it was a bona fide date. "I'll pick you up at seven."

Bursting from her bedroom, Tamsin launched along their corridor.

Hearing her friend's hurried footsteps, Diane left their kitchen.

"It's a disaster," Tamsin cried, thrusting her hands into her midnight black tresses. "A total catastrophe."

Powerless to discern her co-pilot's fault report, Diane frowned, too wise to seek clarification. Ninety minutes to prepare for her date, Tamsin's rising tension had driven them home in under one minute, their super-powered ute safe in her capable co-pilot's hands.

Reaching for her battered cardboard box on their blue couch, Diane smiled. Her care package from Kate had delivered tears this evening alongside its kind contents. Rich flavors she'd missed promised themselves, but that was for later.

Sliding a bright multicolored pouch from her package, she handed it to her friend. Grabbing one to read, she scanned its tiny text. An orange circle read, 'Tear top, rub, wait ten seconds and crush'. The reverse illustrated a girl's hair in a beautiful colored mist. She'd been that girl. Hell, she'd named it Hair Air.

Her trusting friend had already torn the top and rubbed. Confident in their corridor, Tamsin crushed her pouch. Stepping into her color-powered mist, calm overcame her. "Is this it?"

Diane nodded. Unaware eight power-packed pouches nestled in her inbound care package until she'd investigated a moment earlier, she'd told Tamsin about Hair Air during their distracted flight this afternoon.

From her bathroom, Tamsin cried, "Oh my god. Diane!"

Tears streaming, Tamsin spoiled her make up. Brilliance burst into her mirror. Blinding luminous sparkle erupted from every single strand. Denying humidity traction, glistening black perfection flowed in flawless lines. "I look a million dollars," she cried as Diane entered.

"You're beautiful. Jake's a lucky guy."

Blinking back her tears, Tamsin said, "Thank you."

Chalking up another triumph for Ben, Diane left her friend to enjoy herself.

Trying to overlook her dynamite hair, Tamsin fixed her make up with skillful brush strokes. Her official punishment throbbing her deserving bottom, she reflected on how little she knew about the guy who'd caned her. His reaction to their thick cane showed he'd experienced painful discipline. Her bottom proved his power to deliver it.

Thoughtful questions obscured his past. Keeping professional, she hadn't encouraged detailed conversations either. He'd refocused questions on her, providing little insight into his background. She knew he'd grown up in Limit Creek. Checking herself, she realized that was unproven. Several years older, his consuming confidence suggested he'd traveled.

She'd chosen white lace tanga panties. Her awesome hair perfection didn't change her choice. Sliding her dress over her head, her ruffled hair returned to flawless form as the green, red, and blue stripped summer dress clung to her curves. She'd brought two dresses, each rolled in her rucksack. If dating continued, she'd have to investigate Diane's closet.

Jake reversed his ten-year-old black utility vehicle into the girls' drive. Unlike their much admired ute, his ute blended into the landscape of Limit Creek. In his heart he'd believed he would date again, but four years of subtle deflection hadn't prepared him. Tamsin wouldn't accept minimal information. She'd delve into his past. His response would decide their future.

Her exquisite surrender this afternoon had eclipsed his experience of women. Well, one. Yanked from Limit Creek, desire had drawn him into her complex web.

As if ordered, Tamsin skirted their ute, blasting away his thoughts. Thin green, red, and blue stripes molded her glorious body, her incredible legs spared coverage. Decisive steps in her simple silver sandals brought her towards him.

This shimmering angel dancing on his heart demanded a lifetime of stupendous dates. Limited to the General Store's veranda tonight, inspiration swept into his imagination, inspiration he may never get the chance to deploy.

Taking her delicate hand, he guided her into his ute. He'd strive for her. It would demand extraordinary dexterity. He must summon courage he'd never sought. When he revealed his past, his worst self would repel her. He'd dived to the depths of dishonesty, corrupting his every moral fiber. Plunging into a cesspool, he'd plundered truth, manipulated perceptions, mastered cunning deceit, and altered the fate of entire nations.

Unworthy of Tamsin's stunning salvation, he prayed she'd listen before casting judgement. He must earn her proud submission, mesmerizing beauty and remarkable respect, but it could never happen built on a lie.